Altho’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie, Yet happy, happy would I be Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg… When o’er the hill beat surly stor…

My heart is a—breaking, dear Titt… Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fello…

THOU greybeard, old Wisdom! may… Give me with young Folly to live; I grant thee thy calm-blooded, tim… But Folly has raptures to give.

IN this strange land, this uncout… A land unknown to prose or rhyme; Where words ne’er cross’t the Mus… Nor limpit in poetic shackles: A land that Prose did never view…

Ye banks and braes o’ bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fai… How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou warbl…

THE KING’S most humble servant… Can scarcely spare a minute; But I’ll be wi’ you by an’ by; Or else the Deil’s be in it.

O May thy morn was ne’er sae swee… As the mirk night o’ December; For sparkling was the rosy wine, And private was the chamber: And dear was she, I dare na name,

O Thou dread Power, who reign’st… I know thou wilt me hear, When for this scene of peace and l… I make this prayer sincere. The hoary Sire —the mortal stroke…

Is there for honest poverty That hangs his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by We dare be poor for a’ that. For a’ that, an’ a’ that,

HERE lies Johnie Pigeon; What was his religion? Whae’er desires to ken, To some other warl’ Maun follow the carl,

THIS 1 wot ye all whom it concer… I, Rhymer Robin, alias Burns, October twenty-third, A ne’er-to-be-forgotten day, Sae far I sprackl’d up the brae,

O DEATH, had’st thou but spar’d… Whom we this day lament, We freely wad exchanged the wife, And a’ been weel content. Ev’n as he is, cauld in his graff,

A Guide New-year I wish thee, Ma… Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld ba… Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ k… I’ve seen the day There could hae gaen like ony stag…

It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon’s unclouded light… I held away to Annie: The time flew by wi’ tentless heed

Clarinda, mistress of my soul, The measur’d time is run! The wretch beneath the dreary pole… So marks his latest sun. To what dark cave of frozen night